


Morty needs to chill the fuck out

by ltskiki



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Self-Harm, Trans Male Character, Trans Morty, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:22:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ltskiki/pseuds/ltskiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone suggested a trans boy morty fic. I actually already had this one outlined haha. Tw for brief discussion of the contents of meeseeks and destroy, smoking, and self harm</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morty needs to chill the fuck out

Morty sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. 'I'm gonna need to febreeze the bathroom like crazy' he thought absentmindedly.

He didn't care at the moment though. All he was focused on was the cool water of the tub and the marlboros he'd taken from the saucer's dashboard. Rick was smart but he was usually too drunk or preoccupied to realize a few of his ever so precious cigarettes went missing.

The younger sidekick had his first smoke when he was 13 years old, Rick thought it would be funny to watch him cough and stutter about the taste. Morty hadn't had another for a long time, his grandfather had pretty much shoved the cigarette between his lips without any instruction, he almost threw up.

But he grew increasingly curious as he observed the ritual Rick practiced after every stressful mission. They'd be in the ship, with usually Morty flying because Rick was too tired. Plus it was good practice, he said. He'd pull out a fresh cigarette and spark a lighter that looked older than Morty. He'd take the first drag and sigh, keeping his eyes closed the entire time. It was during those few minutes that he looked the calmest Morty had even seen him.

'You-you know those are really bad for you, right Rick? You're a scientist, I mean, of course you know but-'

'Uh-huh, Morty, why don't you travel back to 40 years ago when I might've gave a shit'

After the Mr. JellyBean incident, Morty understood. Being assaulted and almost killed on a weekly basis really fucks someone up, and he had only been going on adventures with Rick for a little over a year. He was still shaking when he slipped the pack into his pocket.

That was almost six months ago, and he'd only had to steal one other pack. He was able to have enough time to himself to light up once a week, if he was lucky.

Taking another drag, Morty scanned his resting body. While obviously he didn't wear clothes in the bath, it was one of the few times he saw himself without his binder on. He usually just ignored it, and this time wasn't any different. But when his finger traced the little raised lines that scattered his pale thighs, memories came rushing back.

Morty had been hurting himself long before his grandpa had moved in, ever since 8th grade. While it was only a little over a year ago, it felt so far away. Morty had always felt an inadequacy in his family, he was smarter than his father, but Summer had straight A's since pre-K, and his mom was a surgeon! Ever since he was diagnosed with autism when he was 4 (and gender identity disorder when he was 11) he felt like a disappointment to his parents. Jerry wanted a son that went to college instead of staying home to take care of a kid, and Beth wanted him to be a 'real' doctor. Kind of hard when you can't even talk without stuttering.

Once the cat was out of the bag about his self injury (there really needs to be a lock on his door), Morty had no other outlet. Smoking partially filled the void, but he still itched for something harmful he could see.

Caught up in his thoughts, Morty hadn't noticed the increasing temperature that brushed his lips whenever he inhaled until the flame was almost touching the filter. He stared at it glassily for a moment, disappointed that his escape for the day was over. Faltering for only a second, he quickly placed the butt onto the side of his knee and pressed down. The ashes sizzled as they came in contact with his wet skin.

Covering his mouth with his free hand to avoid the inevitable scream, he watched the yellow flame on his skin flicker, then go out, leaving only a black stain from the ashes. Pulling the drain and flushing the cigarette butt down with it, Morty stood up and dressed in his loosest jeans and tshirt. He wiped off the steam and looked into the mirror, putting on a dull smile. He may have almost been molested by a giant piece of candy, but at least he had called him a boy. He found it disgusting that he was almost more worried about his attacker finding out what was really in his pants than what he could do to him.

Preparing to step outside to his family, Morty noticed a piece of paper sticking out under the door. After a few seconds of deciphering the chicken scratch handwriting, he was able to understand what it said.

Morty,  
You owe me $20 by Friday for the two packs. If you don't pay up I'm telling Beth and your ass is grass.

 

He didn't have to read the signature to know who sent it. Red faced, he went into his room to find his wallet. Rick didn't mess around when it came to his bad habits.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so fucking sorry I need to chill out on the angst.


End file.
